


Still Haunted

by ceilingfan5



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Kind of fluffy, M/M, Nightmares, except the nightmare part is definitely not fluffy, tattooing, the nightmare is about ryuuhou he is not real sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 10:18:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceilingfan5/pseuds/ceilingfan5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Koujaku has a nightmare and Aoba helps him out of it. Something sweet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still Haunted

**Author's Note:**

> Does not actually contain ghosts.  
> Somehow this felt longer when I was writing it. I will publish a long fic someday and that day is not today at 3 am.

His whole body was on fire. His nostrils filled with iron and ink and he saw red and only red. Terror pumped through his veins and he could feel his pulse on his back in star-bursts of agony, feathering down his spine. He struggled, swiped out at the devil and his needles, but heard only laughter. He was impossible to touch, but those long fingers left scars down his back like an artist sketching out a masterpiece. Cries of pain and howls of fury stuck in his throat and he thought he was going to choke, but something spilled out all the same, black and bloody in the red light that seeped through everything and made it terrible to behold. 

"DON'T TOUCH ME."

More laughter rang out, echoing in the bloody darkness. It chilled him to the bone, but something worse followed it. 

"I have other canvasses to paint. Don't fancy yourself so special. You are finished." The lilting, teasing tone chided him, reminding him that the artist had moved on to bigger better things, perfecting the technique burned into his skin long ago. Some of the red bled away and he could see him, that devil, starting his newest project.

And a familiar face looked him right in the eye, silently calling for help.

He tried to scream, tried to run for the blue shock of hair and the tortured body it belonged to, but he was frozen in place. He could only watch as the most important person in his world suffered the same fate he'd been sentenced to as a child. Blood ran in rivulets down his sides, tracing his thin ribs and dyeing his beautiful locks, and left his pale face contorted in pain and fear. 

"You could have prevented this, you know." That soft sing-song wormed its way into his ears and he wanted to cut them off. He knew it. He didn't want to have to witness it, too. "Your pride and your stubbornness cost you the only thing that matters to you. Funny how these things work out, isn't it?"

He smirked and continued his work, inking his evil into Aoba'a soft flesh, and Koujaku tried to scream, tried to attack, tried to escape his consequences, but it was no use. He had to face this. It was all his fault. He had to feel the worst pain in his life anew through the destruction of the last part of the world he valued. 

He wanted to die. He deserved it for causing this. He was almost as much as the one who orchestrated it. He was a monster, a monster no one could love, and his last chance at salvation was being dyed with sin right before his eyes. 

He had nothing left. 

"Koujaku?"

Nothing. 

"Koujaku!"

He'd destroyed it all himself. 

"Koujaku, wake up!"

The slap to his face stopped the screaming, if only by shock. He had finally opened his eyes but he continued to shake. He stared at Aoba, embarrassed it had happened again and guilty for waking him up. He'd been hesitant about sleeping with Aoba because of these nightmares, but he hadn't expected them to get worse with him here. Aoba should have been the answer, the solution to all his problems. And yet...

"Ryuuhou..." he breathed, still haunted.

"Koujaku," Aoba started, slow and concerned. He wrapped his arms back around his lover's torso where they belonged, taking and squeezing his right hand to comfort and support him. "He's gone. You're safe. He can't hurt you ever again." He put a little weight into every word, backing them up with his most convincing tone. And, with a little thought, he added, "So...Don't give in, alright?" and smiled up at him, and Koujaku bit his lip almost hard enough to bleed to keep from breaking down right there. He nodded, and Aoba smiled up at him like everything was going to get better from there. Maybe he was right. 

Aoba held onto him with wiry arms, leaning his head into the spot between Koujaku's neck and shoulder and tracing his scars and tattoos, silently reminding him that he accepted every inch, no matter what. He held his hand tight and hummed tunelessly, but it was relaxing regardless. Something about the fact that Aoba was trying so hard and loved him so much instead of kicking him out of bed for acting like a child really made him feel warm inside. Not too hot, like when he got angry, or frozen and ready to shatter, like when he saw Aoba with the other men who chased after him, but warm, like a Spring afternoon in the park or a late night with donuts in Tae's kitchen. It felt good, and right, like home. 

To him, Aoba was home. And to be well and truly welcomed there was the best feeling he could name. He finally calmed down as he watched his dearest love fall asleep in his arms, exhausted from worry and success. He cared too much for a guy who would deny it at any chance he got, but that was part of what made Aoba Aoba and he wouldn't have had it any other way. He thought he was delicate like this, with his guard down, and, brushing a lock of hair away from his soft lips, he thought of the Aoba in his nightmare. Had he rescued Aoba, or had Aoba rescued him?

Honestly, he was still unsure how to convey that fact that he'd been worried for Aoba instead of himself. His lover had no idea that he came before Koujaku's respect for his own life, or even that he was his whole world. Even after a year of being together, a year of waking up next to his most treasured dreams come true, he still couldn't explain how much Aoba meant to him. When he tried to say it out loud, his face got too hot and his thoughts came out all wrong and he made a fool of himself. His feelings couldn't be put into words, and reminding someone that they were the reason you were alive, on more than one occasion, no less, never seemed to fit into conversation. 

So, instead of saying anything, he just submitted to Aoba's embrace in mind and body, rocking with him in the dead of the night until the screams melted from his mind and only tenderness remained. He fell asleep with his world, his home, his heart in his arms and he dreamed of nothing until the birds woke up--especially one bird in particular.


End file.
